


Message In A Bottle

by taichara



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:28:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5742022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When opportunity knocks, it's knocking for a reason.</p><p>Even if its entire reason for existing is completely unexpected ~</p>
            </blockquote>





	Message In A Bottle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kalloway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalloway/gifts).



_What a god damn mess._

Kind of an understatement, really. 'Mess' hardly did justice to the sheer _volume_ \-- at least three metric shittons, by Duo's reckoning -- of surveillance, stalking, investigation, more stalking, and painfully long stakeouts that this one asshole had needed to take him down. And now he was being paraded around like a prize, on his way to a courtroom and a 'rightful sentencing' -- whatever _that_ was supposed to be, given the situation -- instead of being dropped down a nice deep hole and forgotten. Or maybe taken on a short trip out an airlock.

_Too bad we needed him alive, it would've been so much easier just to quietly put a bullet in his brain._

But, alas, that little bit of joy was not to be. Not only did the high and mighty in the Preventers system (ha! -- he knew damn well who that _really_ meant) want the so-called 'Milliardo Peacecraft' brought in alive and kicking, they wanted him as untouched as possible. And since, for the time being, he was semi-attached to the Preventers organization and marching to the tune of their requests (hey, they paid well), he was going to have to play by their rules.

Damn it anyway.

Perched as unobtrusively on a window ledge as he could manage, high above the cavalcade of Preventers grunts and civilian police that was dragging the doppleganger out of a former office tower in cuffs and restraints, his light rifle held almost casually at the ready, Duo couldn't help but smirk just a little.

_Ain't no way that's Zechs. He's not struggling hard enough, for one._

Duo had heard the whispers, of course, that Une and company already knew just who the bastard really was. He didn't care about the details, really; as long as the wily blonde beast himself didn't suddenly take another dive into violent psychosis or worse, Duo Maxwell did not give the least of a shit about who _this_ idiot happened to be.

_Just some crazy who thought he'd set himself up as a long lost royal anarchis-- waaaait a sec._

_Who the hell is that?_

On his right, slipping out of the crowd and almost around the street corner and _conveniently_ into a parking alley -- another one. Another Zechs. And, if his binoc sights weren't failing him now, a pissy-looking one. Dark pants, nondescript black coat flapping around his heels, hair in his face over chunky sunglasses ... didn't matter, Duo'd studied every possible detail of the man over the last few months.

_Well fuck me. They had another one!_

He eased to his feet as fast as he dared, given his perch, and ducked back through the window and towards the fire escape. No time for fancier footwork, he needed to cut that bastard off before he scuttled out of sight --

-*-

_Goddamn, I'm glad the building's evacuated already --_

Clambering through the empty office, he raced down the hall, veered left and then right again and -- victory! -- launched himself through the conveniently propped-open fire door, twisting like a cat to land on the platform halfway down the staircase. He had a bead drawn on the bastard's head before the cold alloy stopped ringing beneath his feet.

"Hold it right there, buddy, I don't think you want to cause any trouble today, yeah?"

\-- It was like the intervening stretch of pavement didn't exist. The bastard's head snapped up, and he lunged like a bolt out of clear sky. Startled, Duo fired; the shot went wide, grazing just close enough to clip a bit of ivory hair before his target covered the short length from the corner and practically _flew_ over the stairs. One gloved hand clamped onto the rifle and Duo found himself backed up into the steel frame of the staircase, pinned like a bug.

"Idiot."

Behind the all-enveloping glasses, pale eyes sparked with a smoldering anger Duo remembered all too well. If this guy was another dopple, then he sure was convincing. Lashing out with a kick that _should_ have dropped the man, Duo smirked as the blonde staggered and swore, losing his shades in the process -- and then the smirk was erased in a wave of potential bruising as he was rammed into the struts a second time.

"Can you hear me in there, Maxwell? Because I want an explanation."

_... Oh fuck me._

Zechs -- was it really him? had to be, right? -- pressed him further into the frame, pinning him with main strength and wrenching the rifle away altogether, and oh yeah, there it was; there was the Look. That was the face of the guy who tried to genocide the whole damn Earth.

_Crazy son of a ..._

At least his airways weren't blocked. Fired up himself now, Duo glared daggers back.

"... Look, man -- what the hell do I even call you right now -- do you think I'm sitting up there in the pigeon poop for _fun_?"

Slowly, like the veriest inchworm, Duo slid one hand closer to the knife hidden in his jacket.

"If you _are_ who you look to expect me to think, come _on_ already. I'm covering oversight on the transport of some asshole pretending to be Milliardo Peacecraft, you think I'm not going to go after a second asshole popping up out of nowhere?"

\-- got it; time for a surprise --

"Because I don't see a reason to think you're anything but a decoy for that bastard in handcuffs --"

"Do decoys come from Mars?"

_Holy fuck._

The knife clattered from suddenly nerveless fingers. Zechs -- Wind, _whatever_ \-- glanced sidewise at it, and barked an almost-chuckle.

"You could've had me. I'm impressed."

The pale eyes didn't soften, exactly, but the inhuman rage drained away to be replaced by something a lot more normal. Normal, and weirdly amused, and maybe just a little bit ruefully, resignedly embarrassed ...

... which was when Duo realized just how close the two of them were still pressed together. To say nothing about how much he definitely wasn't regretting it; kind of the opposite, really ... huh ... well, he _was_ playing lone ops marksman and dogsbody for, what, months now ...?

_Back on target, Maxwell --!_

"The hell are you doing here and not _on_ Mars, you ..."

Zechs slowly backed up a few steps, freeing Duo from the staircase with a fleeting and ... oddly speculative expression, fleeting enough that Duo wasn't altogether sure he'd even seen it, and tugged his long coat back into place briskly. One hand rubbed around his eyes. Duo, with something vaguely resembling patience, retrieved his rifle and, triggering the safety code, scooped up first his blade and then the man's wayward glasses, holding them out with a grin.

"Here. Maybe hiding'll get an answer to come to you. I have to call in anyway, so you got a few minutes to pull yourself together."

Zechs' response was noncommittal, but Duo's attention was elsewhere in any case -- at least until he jerked like he was shot, winced, and clamped a hand over the microset in his ear. And held that pose for a good minute before irritably signing off. Goddamnit anyway; some people ...

"... Okay, I guess you're you and now I'm assigned to you or some other kind of bullshit. Can't see why, you're the one with the special codename and everything ..."

"I came here from Mars to prove my identity, Maxwell. Until this -- situation -- is resolved, I'm not part of that organization and will not be in the future."

The burred voice was low, oddly strained. Duo eyed Zechs speculatively.

"Control said you checked out."

"I did. They made certain of that. Do you think I'd be taking this risk otherwise?"

"Care to explain what the problem is, then?"

A brittle smile flickered to life; Zechs turned abruptly away and started to pick his way back down the stairs, gesturing vaguely as he went.

"Invasive physical testing after too many weeks alone in space ... tends to bring out the worst in me. As you just saw. I apologize, by the way; I should have better control over myself. I need to reacquaint myself with basic human interactions, I suppose.

"Regardless, the organization sees me as a liability until this situation with Noinheim is dealt with."

'Noinheim'. Hot on Zechs' heels, Duo halted so quickly he nearly tipped down the stairwell.

"You know the bastard?"

"Possibly. I'd rather not discuss particulars right now."

The strain was obvious. Zechs was not having a good time with all the mess; and who could blame him, really? 

_Poor bastard._

_Well, since the high-and-mighty decided to get me involved with all this direct-like, and since he didn't freak out when I said as much, maybe I can do something about it._

Shouldering the gun, Duo clattered down the remaining steps and planted himself squarely in front of his new charge. Now it was Zechs' turn to be brought up short, which gave Duo all the opportunity in the world to get a better look at the man: tense as suspension cables, a little frayed around the edges (his poor hair; Duo wanted to at least brush it out, long hair deserved better), and ... yup, Duo'd stake his next pay packet that Zechs hadn't slept properly in days. Or longer.

Wanting to do something about it was also kind of interesting. Something to poke at a little later, maybe.

He put on his most disarming smile.

"We can always discuss them later. You're stuck with me now, after all.

"But I'll tell you what. Why don't we head back to my temporary hole in the wall, or your temporary hole in the wall -- I'm guessing you have one, if not I guess you're _really_ with me -- and I'll get rid of my gear, and then I'll drag you off to a nice drinking kind of hole in the wall I've made acquaintances with. Because no offense, man, but you look like you could use a drink. Or fifty."

"I'll take you up on that."

... Well that was easier than he'd expected. 

Maybe Zechs _was_ in space by himself too long. 

Duo squelched any further speculation as he led the way.

-*-

_Damn, does he have a tolerance or what._

Hunkered down in a corner booth at the back of the Shooting Star -- and here he took a moment to pride himself yet again on scoring a temporary doss-down right above a bar, complete with oh-so-convenient inside access to the upstairs; talk about sneaky -- Duo eyed his boothmate with something that came perilously close to envy on top of the appreciation he'd, some non-insignificant number of beers himself later, decided to stop denying (at least in his own head). Zechs was outstripping him by half again and then some, shots no less, and the liquor hardly seemed to be making a dent. 

Well, at least it wasn't affecting the conversation much. Kind of. He _was_ thankful there weren't too many ears to overhear them -- not after he'd caused a brawl or two himself, early on, the nosy bastards -- and hey, he _did_ single out a corner booth in the back for a reason. Nice and private, yup.

"That the kind of drinking they taught back in OZ, man?"

Zechs snorted, leaning back in a stretch that brushed him briefly against Duo. That stretch lasted just a hair longer than Duo expected it to; skin afire, he had no chance to comment or eel away -- not that he wanted to -- before Zechs straightened again and leaned one-sided against the table, propped on elbow and fist. His expression was ... somehow ... odd again, the same oddness from their earlier scuffle, but otherwise unreadable behind the damned glasses. Damn it anyway, how did the man _do_ that?

"Not at all. Call it a self-directed bit of physical schooling, if you like; being able to out-pace any higher echelon officers -- or executives -- is a useful skill to have in the ... arenas I used to frequent, if you follow my meaning."

Clever. And fair enough. Duo saluted with his mug.

"Oh, I follow. How many times you get one over on those old bastards using that trick?"

"More often than I should ever admit to, trust me."

Flagging down one of the waitstaff, Zechs ordered up another pitcher of beer and four more shots. The gent blinked at him in surprise, then shrugged and drifted away from the booth, leaving Zechs eyeing the man's retreating back and Duo shaking his head.

"You sure ..."

"I've already said I'm fine, Maxwell. You leave worrying about me to me, fair enough?"

A small wry smile tugged at Zechs' mouth; whirling an empty shot glass against the dark plasti-wood of the table, he watched it wobble for a moment, then snatched it up again. It seemed, to Duo, to almost be a kind of nervous habit.

"... I'm fine, as fine as I'm going to be while events are still heating up. You may as well get used to my little quirks, as it seems we're stuck with each other for the duration ...?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I mean I doubt I can _really_ stop you if you decided to hell with it all, but pretty much. It could be worse?"

The drinks arrived; the moment they hit the table and the staff disappeared into the crowd, Zechs snorted and knocked back another shot.

"It could certainly be worse, yes. You could be Chang, or Winner, to begin with. I'll pass on either."

_What did he just say?_

"Oh, really? Any reason why, or just because?"

Outwardly, he smirked, reaching for the fresh pitcher. Time to top off his mug --

"Neither are an example of someone I'd remotely be interested in, at any time, for one."

\-- Zechs didn't move. Or didn't seem to have moved. But he was still closer than he was a heartbeat ago, or certainly _seemed_ like it, and that little smile was looking less wry and more something that Duo wasn't sure he was seeing. Because he couldn't be seeing it. Not from Zechs. 

... Could he?

Goddamnit, it was getting hot in the booth, and Duo had absolutely no illusions as to why. He shifted gears, attention off the pitcher and firmly planted on the blonde with the maddening smile, as he shifted his own seat to something a little less ... well, something. Obvious, maybe.

"... As opposed to ...?"

The smile somehow got worse. If worse was the right word. Zechs rasped out a chuckle.

"Something I've been contemplating, off and on. Something that's clearly been on _your_ mind, Maxwell; you're clear as glass, you know. 

"Shall I go ahead and spell it out for you?"

"Well, if you want to just go on like that, sure whatev-"

Leaning forward suddenly, Zechs' snaked his hand behind Duo's neck, drawing fingers up his nape and into his hair and then _down_ , down his spine, felt right through his jacket like tongues of fire. His other hand grazed Duo's abdomen, drew across one hipbone, and --

"Am I righ-"

With a hiss Duo cut him off; burying both hands in the dishevelled ivory mane, he dragged Zechs all but atop him and locked his mouth onto that maddening smile for what felt like eternity --

Drawing suddenly away, Zechs chuckled again, low and rumbling. Duo eeled -- strategically -- out of the booth, tossing what looked like a likely total to his addled self onto the table and aiming for the rear of the Star and the elevator to the upper level that waited there, ignoring the knowing look from the staff. Darting inside, he was enveloped by black coat and probing hands before the doors had a chance to close.

-*-

"... Well, this was definitely a thing that happened. Getting marooned by yourself for half of forever makes you look at opportunity in a whole new way, doesn't it --?"

And did it ever happen. In the cold -- and kind of head-pounding -- light of dawn, Duo could hardly believe it. Hell, he could hardly believe they'd made it into his bachelor's flat, but that was a different story altogether.

_Good thing there's no neighbours worth a damn, anyway --_

Here he was, sprawled on his gut across a bed that looked like a bomb and a herd of Leos stampeded across it, with Zechs-Wind- _whatever_ \-- of all people -- leaning hard against him, arms folded across his shoulder blades. And snaking a hand beneath his belly again, the sly bastard --

"Oh, this is thing that's happened and then some, Maxwell, and I for one have no regrets ..."

"You're _gonna_ regret it if you don't start calling me by my name, damn it!"

Rasping laughter, vibrating against his ribs and making Zechs' hair tickle against his bare skin.

"Fine, Duo. Names are important, after all."

"So what do I call _you_ , then. Not that you didn't care much at the time and all, but we're gonna be stuck with each other for a while and 'hey you' doesn't work much in public. You know, since we're going to be stuck spending so much time together."

Fingertips, now, drumming lightly against his belly, then his flank. 

"Wind is fine. I'll add the second half later.

"For now ..."

Flipping over abruptly, Duo caught Zechs' -- Wind's -- wrist, one knee up, and grinningly grabbed a stray pale lock, blithely ignoring how his own hair snaked over and through the rumpled bedclothes.

"For now, I'm doing something about that rat's nest on your head. Maybe some _surprises_ might come out of the deal ..."

Duo had no doubt they certainly would; he was going to make sure of that. No one got the jump on Duo Maxwell without paying the piper, one way or another, and he had every intention of exhausting the bank. 

And if Wind was having to lay low, well now, that _was_ convenient, now wasn't it ..?

**Author's Note:**

> as the ol'd quote says, "we tried, me precious, we tried" ~


End file.
